The Little Grave (Detective Amanda Steele)

Forty-Two

Even hours down the road when Amanda was taking the highway turn-off for Dumfries, she was thinking of the interactions she’d had with the Baldwins, and Tanya in particular. Also of the little girl who had been robbed of her innocence. In the days after she’d escaped her captors, Amanda hoped that Phoebe Baldwin had experienced the best time of her life. She didn’t want to dwell on the strong likelihood her horror had never been far from her mind. And how the life of a sex slave had her turning to stripping and using her body to earn money. Sadly, it was the only thing she’d known.

She’d filled Malone in on the drive back as to how she’d made out with the Baldwins. Tomorrow, she’d pay Elise and Rhonda a visit.

It was nearing midnight when Amanda got home, still in the department car, and she found a Mazda in her driveway, and someone was in the driver seat.

What the hell?

She pulled in next to the car and got out with her hand on her hip, ready to draw her service weapon if necessary. Her visitor got out of their car.

“Steele, it’s Bishop.”

She could see him now, at least enough between the moonlight and streetlights.

“What are you doing here?” She relaxed a little, but she was still on high alert.

“You have to stop looking into the cold cases. Just walk away.”

Forget relaxing. Her body tensed. “Why would I do that?”

They got to within five feet of each other, but neither of them made any move to get closer. Cud kept shifting his weight from his left to right, and he raked a hand through his hair. For the first time in her memory, he wasn’t chewing gum.

“Listen, I know about the bracelet, the sex-trafficking ring,” he said. “Word gets around.”

“Why do you care if I’m looking into it?” She’d asked the question out loud, but the answer in her head sent chills right through her. She put a hand on her weapon. “Are you involved?”

“No,” he said quickly.

“Then why show up here, tell me to walk away?”

“Because if you don’t, someone could get hurt.”

The skin on the back of her neck tightened, but she set aside her fear. “People are getting hurt, Bishop—have been for years. Girls,” she stressed. “Innocent girls.”

“I can’t do anything about that.”

He seemed to believe his claim, but she wasn’t having it. “You knew that an eyewitness spotted a man outside Casey-Anne’s apartment, but you didn’t latch onto that lead.”

“It meant nothing. He was her uncle.”

“You and I both know he wasn’t her uncle,” she snapped back.

“You know what?” He flailed his hands in the air. “I tried to warn you, but—”

“You threatening me?”

Cud’s eyes pierced hers in the relative darkness. “You’d be wise to back off. All I’m sayin’.” With that, he returned to his Mazda and drove off.

She stood there, her entire body shaking. What the hell had just happened and what had Cud threatening her? Was he involved in the sex-trafficking ring? She didn’t know the guy much outside of work, but she couldn’t imagine that—but then sometimes it was the people you didn’t see.

She walked to her front door, and it took a few stabs for her hand to calm enough to get the key into the lock.

You’d be wise to back off. His words replayed in her head.

They were the same ones her blocked caller had told her, and there was something in the way he’d enunciated the words. Was Cud her mystery caller? It was time to call Jacob and ask for that favor.

Once inside her house, she called him, knowing he’d be at work. He answered on the second ring and she told him she needed him to track a couple of calls made to her phone. She gave him the time and date of the one when the caller had spoken and the other times it had just been breathing followed by a click. “How long do you think it will take?”